Live At SBXL: Media Day For Credential-LessLeitch1/31/06 5:41pmFiled to: NflAJ DaulerioLive At SBXLSuper BowlTop01EditPromoteShare to KinjaToggle Conversation toolsGo to permalinkThis image was lost some time after publication. Deadspin's own A.J. Daulerio files his second report from the Super Bowl, an attempt to hang around media day with no press passes. Here's his report.AdvertisementWith press credentials, going to Super Bowl Media Day can be incredibly boring. Without them, well, it's pointless.However, I am undeterred by the lack of credentials, because I have a notebook and the JVC, and I am completely unshaved, unshowered and have nothing better to do but roam aimlessly for hours. I m wearing two coats: one to hold the notebook, uncharged digital camera, JVC, and a tape recorder; another because I think it gives me a more distinguished look, which may be helpful to get me into some areas. Unfortunately, this is incredibly awkward, considering the 10 pounds of audio-video equipment I'm lugging around. Given that unkempt state, I'm certain I would not be allowed to walk through an airport for more than 10 minutes before being taken into a back room.AdvertisementLuckily, I'm just going to Media Day.Much of the afternoon was spent getting turned away on numerous occasions for access to some press events, leaving random messages at said events for Chuck Klosterman and watching Dan Patrick eat a sandwich in person. Some of those things, I was lucky enough to get on tape. Observe my second directorial debut in just under three minutes.Deadspin Video: Tuesday Media Day Fun (Full report after the jump.)SponsoredI have no plan of attack for actually getting into any media events, except to basically walk around and act like I know what I m doing until somebody stops me.It took all of 20 feet from the back entrance of the media center until a security guard kindly informed me that, unless I have press credentials, I will not be able to film while inside the hotel. Preposterous. I slink by him and begin filming everything from waist level. There is no interesting footage from this whatsoever; I was just hoping somebody would stop me and kick me out. That's what I'm here for. But each time I'm stopped by a security person, I tell them I am a member of the press and am in search of credentials.AdvertisementThe "RenCen" (natch) is laid out like a giant, circular mall. Wherever you go, you're running into the same thing and the same people; most of the people with media credentials are wearing blue buttoned-down shirts with white T-shirts underneath, pleated pants and various incarnations of heavy-soled shoes in either brown or black. Sports journalists are, indeed, fashion mavens — from 1998.Eventually, after circling three levels, I do find the media credential center. Given that it's past 12 p.m. and most of the press conferences are over, I'm the only one there. After greeting the person behind the desk and handing him my i.d., he asks me what my credentials are "under." I say "deadspin.com." He asks what that is. I tell him it's a Web site. He goes back into the computer, examines my i.d. once again for proper spelling and hands it back to me because I m not on the list. I then tell him to look under "gawker.com," which is once again a no-go. Then, I aggravate the crap out of him."When did you file for your credentials?" he asks.Advertisement"I thought I was doing that now," I said."No, you re picking up your credentials," he says. "You were supposed to have filed two months ago."He then gives me a look that I've seen before; it's that condescending glare rental car salespeople give you when you attempt to rent a car without a non-debit credit card. I stupidly ask him if there's anything he can do for me. He scoffs.AdvertisementAdvertisement"You ve got to be kidding."I give him a look of shame and begin to walk away.I turn back.Advertisement"Do you think anybody could give me their notes from the press conference?"He says nothing and stares.Luckily, I run into Steve Serby from the New York Post in the hallway. In person, Serby resembles a junior high wrestling coach, but he s affable enough when I ask him questions, considering he has no idea who I am.